Behind The Music: A boy named Joey
by Kawaii Petal-Chan
Summary: Being the victim of divorced parents is never easy. Throw in a homicidal dad, a soldier mom, a religious grandmother and mysterious powers, and you realize that Joseph Jericho Wilson is in for a rough time.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, all! Jericho is my absolute favorite Teen Titan, and I just wanted to write a story about him. This is actually intended to be a prequel to my next story, Teen Titans: Keepin' It Real, based on my ATF 2005 experience. Ok, this fic **is** going to be very Christian in later chapters, I'm just warning you now. If you don't like that kinda stuff, either just deal with it or put this story down, but I can't help it. It's what I believe and I just can't keep it quiet. Ok, enough talk, let's get to the good stuff. The story!

**Disclaimer: Ok, I don't own Teen Titans or Jericho, or his family, but I have tweaked the storyline so that it's mine! NO TAKING! **

Behind the Music: A boy named Joey

Chapter One

Sometimes, I seriously wonder if maybe I was adopted. I know that, yeah, I look like Mom and Dad, but I really DON'T act a thing like them. Mom and Dad are both soldiers, (well, ex-soldier in Mom's case.) Even my older brother Grant is a fighter, but not me. I'd rather paint, or write music. Whenever I talk to Mom about my idea about me being adopted, she always says, "I was there sweetie, I should know," and changes the subject.

Mom says that I take after Grandma as far as personality goes. I have to agree with her. I love painting and drawing and music; pretty much all of the fine arts. A few years ago, my music teacher said I had a really nice soprano. I know, boys aren't supposed to be sopranos, but my voice still hadn't changed.

When I was little, whenever I'd show a sketch or painting to my family, I could usually predict their responses. Daddy would make some comment about his son being the next Michelangelo. Grant would call me a sissy, but never in a really mean voice. Mom would say that I wasn't a sissy, I was just creative. But still, I always felt as if Daddy was disappointed in me. He always seemed to spend more time with Grant. But I don't mind anymore. To tell the truth, I don't care if I never see my dad again. Not after what happened.

In case you don't know, my parents are divorced. As I said, my dad's a soldier. Well, he started taking some experimental drugs as a test for the Army. It increased his mental usage to 90, but I think it also really messed him up. He never told us about it, and he also took a secret identity as a killer(which is always a good thing to have.) I noticed that a few years before Mom divorced Daddy that Daddy tended to get angrier easier. The bad thing was, he seemed to take it out on me, the big disappointment in his life. Then, one day, I was kidnapped by some people that wanted to give Daddy a weakness. Daddy and Mommy both came and rescued me, but . . . those guys severed my vocal cords. So now, I can only talk through my hands. My voice is completely gone. Well, Mommy got really mad about that. She yelled at Daddy for getting me in danger. The two only stayed together for a few months, then Mom came home one day and told me that she and Daddy were no longer married, and she had custody over me. Daddy got Grant.

Mommy and I went to go live with Grandma. That's where we are now. It's been a year since we came here. I really like Grandma. She's so much fun, but somehow I miss having a real family, one that loved each other, not just living with my mom and Grandma. Grandma has helped me with my drawings, and I get music lessons each week. But no matter how much love I get, I still feel so empty. There's something that's missing; something that I just can't find. I don't mention this to anyone. Mom and Grandma have enough to worry about. Like, is Daddy still a psychopathic wierdo who might be coming after us because of Mom's leaving. Stuff like that. They don't need to worry about me.

In the meantime, I'm in fifth grade. I'm not doing too bad either, grade-wise that is. My teacher, Miss Rogers, says that I'm a very smart boy. But it's not all fun. Since I'm one of the shortest in my class, and I don't talk, I get picked on constantly. That's the low point of my day. It's hard for me to talk to the other kids, and I don't really have any friends. But I'm used to being lonely. It's just another part of me. No matter what I do, I'm always going to be an outsider. I never really belong anywhere.

To top this all off, I have been discovering something that I haven't told anyone about. If I look into someone's eyes, I can kinda take over their body. It's really kinda freaky. I have to be careful of this. I worry about being able to control it. But I guess it's just another burden I have to bear. All alone. No one can help me with this. I just don't know if I'm ready to have all of this on me.

I worry about Daddy too. I remember him when I was little. He was really nice to me. He always told me that I was a smart little boy. I loved him. But he betrayed my trust. I don't know if I can love anyone like that. I also worry about him maybe coming after us. I always feel so scared. And frankly I don't like it.

**Lonely**

I don't know why I feel so lonely.

A black hole opening up inside of me.

I need something to fill this void,

But I just don't know what that might be.

Is there more to this life that I am living?

Is there someone who loves me and is forgiving?

Why do I feel so empty inside?

Is there someone who knows every time I've cried?

What are the answers to the questions that I ask.?

I tell you, it seems like a hopeless task.

Searching for love in a world that is empty,

Searching for someone whose love I can see,

Someday I'll find it, I know I will.

Until that day comes I'll be searching still.

J.W.W.

-

So, how'd you like it? In keeping with the musical/poetic nature of Jericho, I'm ending each chapter in a piece of original poetry. I have high hopes for this story, and it will become VERY Christian later on. But, to me, Joey just seems to work that way. And besides, he's just sooo cute! Ok, that's all for now. Tune in next time! Bye all!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Kawaii Petalchan here again! I want to say thanks to Saint H for the kind review, and so, here's chapter two. Oh, and about the angsty Joey, that's to provide a contrast to the later chapters. Sorry about it being a bit slow towards the beginning. It's going to change in a while. But that's all I'm gonna say, or risk telling the whole plot. So, for all of ya'll, here's chapter 2! Yay!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jericho, but I wish I did. Etc, etc. Get reading! Now! I command you!**

Chapter Two

Mom and Dad have never been very 'religious' so I was kinda surprised to find that Grandma is a very regular church-goer. I guess Mom doesn't go as a kind of rebellion. Grandma was kinda mad that mom didn't tell me anything about church. Grandma has been taking me to her church. I sit in on the Sunday school classes, but frankly I don't get it. Who are all these people that they are talking about? I just don't understand how people who lived over two thousand years ago can be important to our lives today. And who is this 'Jesus' that they talk about? Grandma showed me the sign-language word, but I don't understand it. You touch the index finger of one hand to the palm of the other, and do the same with the other hand. What's _that_ all about?

Today they were talking about this 'Jesus' healing a cripple's legs with just a word. I find that a bit hard to believe. How could he possibly be able to do that? No medical equipment, nothing, just 'Get up and walk,' and the guy was healed. But at the same time, I wonder. If this 'Jesus' _were_ real, and could do something so amazing, could he possibly heal someone who was mute like me? . . . I doubt it. Oh well.

I've been playing the guitar more and more lately. I didn't play much before Mom and Dad got divorced, mainly because it just was slightly frowned on by Grant and Dad. I think that Mom understands me more, maybe because Grandma loves music and art. Mom grew up in this house, so she understands the 'aesthetic' people.

That 'power' that I mentioned earlier, it's been getting a bit stronger. I try not to look at anyone's eyes. I know that it makes people think that I'm not listening, but I really am. It's just I can't look without possibly taking over someone's body. I don't want that. It never lasts long, but it's disorienting. I don't like it. I've heard of 'Super Heros' but this is ridiculous.

Mom's been getting more and more nervous about Dad. She's been giving me self-defense lessons. She says that I need to be able to protect myself in case Dad decides to do something rash. I don't like it. I learn, I just don't really care about fighting. If I have to protect myself, I'm sure I can, but I don't like it at all. I wish I could just live in a normal household. You know. A mom, dad, brother, all of which love me and each other.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and picture things as they used to be: Mom and Dad smiling and laughing, Grant not being such a jerk, I miss the way it was. Not the way it was towards the end, with Mom and Dad fighting and shouting all the time. The words were so sharp, they still stick in my mind, like a barrage of knives. Every time I think of those last months, I feel like crying. And that makes me think of why they divorced, and my throat, and I get angry. Angry with Dad for not preventing it, and at myself for not being able to talk. It makes me feel as if something is gone. I hate not being able to sing or laugh or get anyone's attention without tapping them.

I've been having dreams lately. Nightmares. It's like something is chasing me. Somehow I know that if this . . . thing, catches me, my life's going to change. For bad or worse I can't tell, but I guess I don't want it to change, and I run. I just run, even though I don't know where I'm going. It kinda scares me. Maybe it means something. Grandma says that dreams often mean something. I'd ask her what it means, but I'm not sure. Maybe I'll ask her later. I have this dream a lot. Not every night, but sometimes two nights in a row, and then not again for a night or two, and then it starts up again. Maybe it's Daddy chasing me. If it is, I know why I run. But maybe it's not.

Oh, I feel so confused. I just want answers. I have all these questions nowadays, and I never get answers. To tell the truth, I'm not sure where to turn. I'm just lost. So alone. Why does it have to be that way? Why can't I get an answer? It's baffling. Who is that in my dream? And why can't I see his face? I'm sure that it's a he, somehow I just know. When I'm dreaming, I feel as if I know who it is, but when I wake up, I don't know. Why does he torment me? I just want to know who it is.

**Lost**

Confused.

That's how I feel.

Who is this man,

The one Grandma prays to at every meal?

What does he have to do with me?

Why do I feel that there's more than what I see?

Who is the man who chases me in my dreams?

Is he really more than he seems?

Who is he really?

I feel I want to know,

But I don't want that feeling to show.

I'm so lost. I don't know what to say.

Can someone please show me the way?

J.W.W.

-

So, is it ok? Please review, I need your input. Please. Please. Please. Ok, I'm gonna stop pleading now. But really, I do need your input. It keeps me going. BTW, the title of this story comes from the KJ-52 cd Behind the Musik: A boy named Jonah, and I have kinda gotten a lot of inspiration for this story from KJ (esp. the songs 'Don't go,' 'Behind the Musik' and 'Are you Real?'). Ok, that's all for now. See ya!


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, here's chapter three! Yay, hooray and cheer! I finally updated! Spring Break is letting me get some time to write now, so I could update. Oh, and Darkened Visions, I am _so not_ your 'mourning dove.' GET OVER IT. Ok, now onto the story.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans or Jericho. Duh. Read. Now.**

Chapter Three

Those bullies have been picking on me a lot more lately. I just can't stand it. Why do I have to be such a FREAK! If there is a God, I think that he must think that I'm some kind of cruel joke. This tiny, blonde-haired, green-eyed boy with some weird mutation that lets me take over other people's bodies. I hate my life some days.

To add to the bruises that I collect daily from school, Mom's starting to get serious about these fighting lessons. She tells me, "I taught your dad to fight, I can teach you too." That was a shock. _Mom_ taught _Dad_? Whoa! Dad's a professional killer now. I think he's probably had some more help than just Mom. I'm not saying that she can't fight. I'm just saying that she's not as good as Dad. Anyway, every time that I look at myself in the mirror, I end up looking like a weird grape. And I'm so sore that I can hardly sleep some nights. Maybe that explains some of the nightmares.

My nightmares are a lot more frequent now. There's the chasing one, and some randomly scattered dreams, a lot of which scare the life out of me. I finally told Grandma about the chasing dream. She says that it could have several reasons. Maybe I'm scared of something (Yeah. Dad, life, the bullies at school, etc. I get scared all the time now). Or, maybe I'm lost inside and it comes out in my dreams. Or, maybe God is trying to tell me something. That was about the time that I stopped listening. Why would _God_ care about me? I'm just a boring little kid with a messed up life, a homicidal dad and an overly pushy Grandma. Not exactly your 'Christian' material. I mean, he only takes the people with good lives, right? Why would he worry about me?

Christmas has come and gone. Grandma puts up this thing that she calls a creché. It's a bunch of these little figurines that are supposed to symbolize people in the Bible. It doesn't make any sense to me. There's a mom, dad, a few shepherds, some sheep, three guys in really nice clothing (which looks really out of place in that tiny stable), some camels, a donkey, a cow, an angel and a hay trough with a baby in it. C'mon, why would you put a baby in a _horse trough_? Isn't that unsanitary or something? Besides being itchy (hay is itchy, I know, I've been on a horse farm once.) I've heard of putting a baby in a dresser drawer, but even that makes more sense than a horse trough.

I got some new music from Grandma, some new picks as well (really nice ones too!), plus a whole new set of paints and sigh clothes from Mom. It's not as if I don't appreciate clothes, it just always seems like such an ordinary present for Christmas. But . . . Christmas seems empty without Daddy and Grant. It's so lonely, just me, Mom and Grandma. So lonely. I don't really miss Daddy, or at least I tell myself that, but . . . that doesn't excuse the gaping hole in my life.

I'm not doing as well at school. My grades are dropping a bit. Maybe it's because of how depressed I feel sometimes. Sometimes I wonder . . . why I am still alive. My life is a mess, and there's nothing I can do about it. There's nothing _any_one can do about it. It's just lonely. And all this responsibility: school, self-defense, nightmares, bullies, and this new power, is an awful lot to have a single kid carry. You know, I may tell Mom about the 'power' issue. Maybe she'll have some idea about how to cope with it. She might be able to show me what to do. And I could tell her about the bullies . . . But, maybe later. I don't know if I want to seem anymore wimpy than I already do. Dad and Grant already thought that I was a wimp. 'Guys aren't supposed to get scared,' Grant always used to tell me. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm too much of a wimp. Oh, I feel so confused. What's REAL!

**Reality**

How can anyone know what's real?

How can anyone know what I feel?

Maybe no one can tell.

Maybe we'll never know until we hear our death knell.

Truth,

Lies,

Black

White.

Who can tell us what is right?

Is there one who knows?

Will he stand up right now and let it show?

We can debate this fact till doomsday.

Does anyone have the answer _today_?

J.W.W

-

Ok, was it worth the wait? I hope so. Please, please review. I need to know that people are reading my story. Ok, thanks for your time. See you all later!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Hi, all! SOOOOO sorry it took me so long to update. It's been hectic, what with my missions trip to Grenada, and vacation and a summer assignment that I haven't had time. So, I'll put up more than one chapter this time! Yay!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. TT**

Chapter Four

Summer vacation's been here and gone. I passed fifth grade, but just barely. I'm now in sixth grade. Mom was actually kinda receptive about the whole 'powers' issue, and I've gotten it pretty much under control. Oh, and my birthday passed as well. I'm now 11. And still short. Oh well. I'm not in as much stress as I was last year, and I've begun to get over the divorce (with the help of the school counselor. XP Oh well . . .)

Oh, and I'm getting pretty good on guitar, and piano. Grandma's teaching me piano as well. It's actually fun! (What's next, the harp? Joke, ok?) I might actually be able to make a living with music. Providing that I'm able to pass school. Oh, and believe me, middle school is TOUGH! We change classes and there's no recess. Darn . . . I miss recess . . . but that's one more time that the bullies can't beat me up. I never start fights at school, and I try not to finish them either. Mom doesn't want me getting a bloody nose at school.

Mom tries not to show it, but I think that she's really worried about Dad. We haven't heard anything about him (or from him, not that he writes or calls or anything.) But, I guess in his case, no news is good news. However, there have been reports of some 'Super Villain' on the West Coast calling himself 'Slade.' Naturally, Mom's a bit tense. I think that it's just one of those co-inky-dinks. And Dad's assassin name is 'Deathstroke the Terminator,' Slade Wilson's his real name. I don't think he's stupid enough to call himself by his real name. Is he? I know that those drugs messed him up, but is he that far gone? I hope not.

Grandma tries to get me to church as much as possible. But I still like sleeping in on Sunday. She says that it's important to go to church on Sundays. But I'm not sure if I believe like she does. You know, I'm not sure if I'm a Christian or not. I really don't get this stuff. A kid born in a horse trough, a guy talking to a flaming bush, a guy taking all the animals on a boat and letting everyone but his family drown. Then there's this 'Jesus.' Did you know he supposedly was killed like a criminal? And this is one of the most important men in this religion? A guy who died like a thief? Who writes this stuff anyway? Is it possibly something someone made up and wrote down as a joke? Grandma says that there are religions (she called them 'cults') that were made up as a joke, and people believe them. Wild or what?

Then there's this 'communion' thing. They pass around these trays with little cups on them, and others with tiny crackers, and they talk about the bread being this 'Jesus's' _body_ and the juice being his _blood_. I have one thing to say on that topic. EWW, EWW, EWW, EWW! That is so NASTY! Who comes up with these things?

I just don't understand this. Oh, and my nightmares come almost every night now. And the most frequent is the running dream. No matter how hard or far I run, my shadow is never far behind. He's either desperate or crazy. Maybe both if it's my dad. Several times I've tried to see who's following me, but every time he eludes me. It's like he wants to find me, but doesn't want me to see him. Maybe it is Dad. That's not cool. But I want to know, and now more than ever. Maybe he'll show himself to me at a later date. Who knows?

**Searching**

Turned around

Looking around

Up, down,

Not wanting to be found.

Not sure who or what I am,

Running like a man on the lam.

Who are you?

What must I do

To see your face

To find the place

Where I belong.

J.W.W.

Is it ok? Please tell me, I need reviews! Thank you all for reading. I'm hopefully going to be posting another christian TT fic called "Forevermore." It's about the television series Titans, but when they're college-age. (And written from Raven's point of view.) Oh, and Melvin, Tommy and Teether are part of the new Teen Titans. (Only Teether has a name! It's Billy!) Look for it in the very near future!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Kawaii Petal-chan here! Chapter five is here too! Read it! Enjoy it! And review please! (Don't worry, it will pick up in later chapters!)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. Duh.**

Chapter Five

School's getting close to done for this year. Even so, I still get beat up a lot by the older boys. And that's just not funny. My mom isn't laughing either. In fact, she's getting really tired of it. She says that next year, she's going to try homeschooling me. It's one of those 'newfangled' computer schools. And I'm going to get a laptop for my schoolwork! That's a bonus. On the down side, it's going to be rough, not seeing any friends at 'school.' Not that I _had_ many friends in the first place, but I won't see them all the same.

I guess, since I'm getting older, I notice things more. Things that I didn't notice before. Like the look on Mom's face when the news talks about some criminal getting the death sentence, or when they mention a lot of the crimes going on in places like Jump City. I guess Mom still worries about Dad sometimes. Maybe she still, deep down, loves him. Like that old adage, "Love the sinner, hate the sin."

I don't really know where I stand on the issue about Dad. There are days when I hate him with every atom of my being. That's usually brought on by seeing the other kids singing and laughing and talking with each other, and realizing that I'm doomed to silence for the rest of my life. That really makes me hate him. However, there are also days when I remember how things used to be, when I was little, and I guess you could say that my heart aches for those days. It's kind of a love-hate relationship.

Grandma says that she doesn't really hate him. She dislikes his actions and wishes that he'd find Jesus, but she doesn't hate him. Grandma says that she's _praying_ for him! Now, sometimes I just don't understand that. I have to say, that lately, I've been hating him a lot more than I ever have. I just don't see how you can love someone that is so bad and even _pray_ for them. It's almost contradictory. You hate them, but you pray for them. What is wrong here? She says that the Bible says to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. But how? That doesn't make any sense! Grandma says that it works though, but I'm not sure. It really has me confused

How can you love someone so bad?

How can joy exist in someone so sad?

Contradictions are everywhere around,

Clarity is nowhere to be found.

The world is turning upside down.

Maybe we're all going crazy.

J.W.W.

Ok, what did you think? I'm starting to bring Slade into the picture now! And yes, the whole Slade thing does play a big part in future. And the 'I hate my dad' bit too. Review please! And I'll see you next time!


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